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Copyright,  1884. 


Their  Christmas  Dinner. 


BY 


Charles  Dickens. 


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NEW- YORK: 

Geo.  R.  Lockwood  &  Son, 

812  Broadway. 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2011  with  funding  from 

University  of  North  Carolina  at  Chapel  Hi 


http://www.archive.org/details/theirchristmasdiOOdick 


THEIR  CHRISTMAS  DINNER. 


HEN  up  rose  Mrs.  Cratchit,  Crat- 
chit's  wife,  dressed  out  but  poorly 
in  a  twice  turned  gown,  but  brave 
in  ribbons,  which  are  cheap,  and  make  a 
goodly  show  for  sixpence ;  and  she  laid  the 
cloth,  assisted  by  Belinda  Cratchit,  second  of 
her  daughters,  also  brave  in  ribbons,  while 
Master  Peter  Cratchit  plunged  a  fork  into  the 
saucepan  of  potatoes,  and  getting  the  corners 
of  his  monstrous  shirt-collar  (Bob's  private 
property,  conferred  upon  his  son  and  heir  in 
honor  of  the  day)  into  his  mouth,  rejoiced  to 
find  himself  so  gallantly  attired,  and  yearned 


to  show  his  linen  in  the  fashionable  Parks. 
And  now  two  smaller  Cratchits,  boy  and  girl, 
came  tearing  in,  screaming  that  outside  the 
baker's  they  had  smelt  the  goose,  and  known 
it  for  their  own;  and  basking  in  luxurious 
thoughts  of  sage  and  onion,  these  young 
Cratchits  danced  about  the  table,  and  exalted 
Master  Peter  Cratchit  to  the  skies,  while  he 
(not  proud,  although  his  collar  nearly  choked 
him)  blew  the  fire,  until  the  slow  potatoes  bub- 
bling up,  knocked  loudly  at  the  saucepan-lid 
to  be  let  out  and  peeled. 

*'  What  has  ever  got  your  precious  father, 
then?"  said  Mrs.  Cratchit.  '^And  your 
brother.  Tiny  Tim !  And  Martha  warn't  as 
late  last  Christmas-day  by  half  an  hour  !  " 

"  Here's  Martha,  mother ! "  said  a  girl,  ap- 
pearing as  she  spoke. 

'* Here's  Martha,  mother!"  cried  the  two 
young  Cratchits.  "Hurrah!  There's  S2ic/i 
a  goose,  Martha ! " 

''Why,  bless  your  heart  alive,  my  dear, 
how  late  you  are  ! "  said  Mrs.  Cratchit,  kiss- 


ing  her  a  dozen  times,  and  taking  off  her 
shawl  and  bonnet  for  her  with  officious  zeal. 

*'We'd  a  deal  of  work  to  finish  up  last 
night,"  replied  the  girl,  "and  had  to  clear 
away  this  morning,  mother  ! " 

"Well!  never  mind  so  long  as  you  are 
come,"  said  Mrs.  Cratchit.  "  Sit  ye  down 
before  the  fire,  my  dear,  and  have  a  warm. 
Lord  bless  ye  ! " 

"No,  no!  There's  father  coming,"  cried 
the  two  young  Cratchits,  who  were  every- 
where at  once.      "  Hide,  Martha,  hide  ! " 

So  Martha  hid  herself,  and  in  came  little 
Bob,  the  father,  with  at  least  three  feet  of 
comforter  exclusive  of  the  fringe  hanging 
down  before  him ;  and  his  threadbare  clothes 
darned  up  and  brushed,  to  look  seasonable ; 
and  Tiny  Tim  upon  his  shoulder.  Alas  for 
Tiny  Tim,  he  bore  a  little  crutch,  and  had 
his  limbs  supported  by  an  iron  frame  ! 

"Why,  Where's  our  Martha?"  cried  Bob 
Cratchit,  looking  round. 

"Not  coming,"  said  Mrs.  Cratchit. 


8 


*'Not  coming!"  said  Bob,  with  a  sudden 
declension  in  his  high  spirits;  for  he  had  been 
Tim's  blood  horse  all  the  way  from  church, 
and  had  come  home  rampant.  *'  Not  com- 
ing upon  Christmas-day ! " 

Martha  didn't  like  to  see  him  disappointed, 
if  it  were  only  a  joke,  so  she  came  out  pre- 
maturely from  behind  the  closet  door,  and  ran 
into  his  arms,  while  the  two  young  Cratchits 
hustled  Tiny  Tim,  and  bore  him  off  into  the 
wash-house,  that  he  might  hear  the  pudding 
singing  in  the  hopper. 

''And  how  did  little  Tim  behave?"  asked 
Mrs.  Cratchit,  when  she  had  rallied  Bob  on 
his  credulity,  and  Bob  had  hugged  his  daugh- 
ter to  his  heart's  content. 

''As  good  as  gold,"  said  Bob,  "and  better. 
Somehow  he  gets  thoughtful,  sitting  by  him- 
self so  much,  and  thinks  the  strangest  things 
you  ever  heard.  He  told  me,  coming  home, 
that  he  hoped  the  people  saw  him  in  the 
church,  because  he  was  a  cripple,  and  it 
might  be  pleasant  to  them  to  remember  upon 


Christmas-day  who  made  lame  beggars  walk 
and  blind  men  see." 

Bob's  voice  was  tremulous  when  he  told 
them  this,  and  trembled  more  when  he  said 
that  Tiny  Tim  was  growing  strong  and  hearty. 

His  active  little  crutch  was  heard  upon  the 
floor,  and  back  came  Tiny  Tim  before  an- 
other word  was  spoken,  escorted  by  his 
brother  and  sister  to  his  stool  beside  the  fire ; 
and  while  Bob,  turning  up  his  cuffs  —  as  if, 
poor  fellow,  they  were  capable  of  being  made 
more  shabby — compounded  some  hot  mix- 
ture in  a  jug  with  gin  and  lemons,  and  stirred 
it  round  and  round  and  put  it  on  the  hob  to 
simmer ;  Master  Peter  and  the  two  ubiquitous 
young  Cratchits  went  to  fetch  the  goose,  with 
which  they  soon  returned  in  high  procession. 

Such  a  bustle  ensued  that  you  might  have 
thought  a  goose  the  rarest  of  all  birds;  a 
feathered  phenomenon,  to  which  a  black  swan 
was  a  matter  of  course  —  and  in  truth  it  was 
something  very  like  it  in  that  house.  Mrs. 
Cratchit  made  the  gravy  (ready  beforehand 


in  a  little  saucepan)  hissing  hot;  Master 
Peter  mashed  the  potatoes  with  incredible 
vigor;  Miss  Belinda  sweetened  up  the  apple- 
sauce; Martha  dusted  the  hot  plates;  Bob 
took  Tiny  Tim  beside  him  in  a  tiny  corner  at 
the  table;  the  two  young  Cratchits  set  chairs 
for  everybody,  not  forgetting  themselves,  and 
mounting  guard  upon  their  posts,  crammed 
spoons  into  their  mouths,  lest  they  should 
shriek  for  goose  before  their  turn  came  to  be 
helped.  At  last  the  dishes  were  set  on,  and 
grace  was  said.  It  was  succeeded  by  a  breath- 
less pause,  as  Mrs.  Cratchit,  looking  slowly 
all  along  the  carving-knife,  prepared  to 
plunge  it  in  the  breast;  but  when  she  did, 
and  when  the  long-expected  gush  of  stuffing 
issued  forth,  one  murmur  of  delight  arose  all 
round  the  board,  and  even  Tiny  Tim,  excited 
by  the  two  young  Cratchits,  beat  on  the  table 
with  the  handle  of  his  knife,  and  feebly  cried 
Hurrah  ! 

There  never  was  such  a  goose.     Bob  said 
he  didn't  believe  there  ever  was  such  a  goose 


II 

cooked.  Its  tenderness  and  flavor,  size  and 
cheapness,  were  the  themes  of  universal  admi- 
ration. Eked  out  by  apple-sauce  and  mashed 
potatoes,  it  was  a  sufficient  dinner  for  the 
whole  family :  indeed,  as  Mrs.  Cratchit  said 
with  great  delight  (surveying  one  small  atom 
of  a  bone  upon  the  dish),  they  hadn't  ate  it 
all  at  last !  Yet  every  one  had  had  enough, 
and  the  youngest  Cratchits  in  particular  were 
steeped  in  sage  and  onions  to  the  eyebrows. 
But  now  the  plates  being  changed  by  Miss 
Belinda,  Mrs.  Cratchit  left  the  room  alone  — 
too  nervous  to  bear  witnesses  —  to  take  the 
pudding  up,  and  bring  it  in. 

Suppose  it  should  not  be  done  enough  ! 
Suppose  it  should  break  in  turning  out ! 
Suppose  somebody  should  have  got  over  the 
wall  of  the  backyard,  and  stolen  it,  while  they 
were  merry  with  the  goose  —  a  supposition  at 
which  the  two  young  Cratchits  became  livid ! 
All  sorts  of  horrors  were  supposed. 

Hallo  !  A  great  deal  of  steam  !  The  pud- 
ding was  out  of  the  copper.     A  smell  like  a 


12 

washing-day  !  That  was  the  cloth.  A  smell 
like  an  eating-house  and  a  pastrycook's  next 
door  to  each  other,  with  a  laundress's  next 
door  to  that !  That  was  the  pudding  !  In 
half  a  minute  Mrs.  Cratchit  entered  —  flushed, 
but  smiling  proudly  —  with  the  pudding,  like 
a  speckled  cannon-ball,  so  hard  and  firm, 
blazing  in  half  of  half-a-quartern  of  ignited 
brandy,  and  bedight  with  Christmas  holly 
stuck  into  the  top. 

Oh,  a  wonderful  pudding.  Bob  Cratchit 
said,  and  calmly  too,  that  he  regarded  it  as 
the  greatest  success  achieved  by  Mrs.  Crat- 
chit since  their  marriage.  Mrs.  Cratchit  said 
now  the  weight  was  off  her  mind, she  would  con- 
fess she  had  her  doubts  about  the  quantity  of 
flour.  Everybody  had  something  to  say  about 
it,  but  nobody  said  or  thought  it  was  at  all  a 
small  pudding  for  a  large  family.  It  would 
have  been  flat  heresy  to  do  so.  Any  Cratchit 
would  have  blushed  to  hint  at  such  a  thing. 

At  last  the  dinner  was  all  done,  the  cloth 
was  cleared,  the  hearth  swept,  and  the  fire 


13 

made  up.  The  compound  in  the  jug  being 
tasted,  and  considered  perfect,  apples  and 
oranges  were  put  upon  the  table,  and  a  shovel- 
ful of  chestnuts  on  the  fire.  Then  all  the 
Cratchit  family  drew  round  the  hearth,  in 
what  Bob  Cratchit  called  a  circle,  meaning 
half  a  one ;  and  at  Bob  Cratchit's  elbow  stood 
the  family  display  of  glass.  Two  tumblers 
and  a  custard-cup  without  a  handle. 

These  held  the  hot  stuff  from  the  jug,  how- 
ever, as  well  as  golden  goblets  would  have 
done;  and  Bob  served  it  out  with  beaming 
looks,  while  the  chestnuts  on  the  fire  sputtered 
and  cracked  noisily.     Then  Bob  proposed : 

''A  merry  Christmas  to  us  all,  my  dears. 
God  bless  us." 

Which  all  the  family  re-echoed. 

"  God  bless  us  every  one  ! "  said  Tiny  Tim, 
the  last  of  all. 


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